


Convince Me

by CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, M/M, comedy maybe, ghost Hunter Dan, ghost phil, im kinda funny, umm not much to tag here lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycalhoun/pseuds/CanDanAndPhilNot
Summary: Dan doesn’t believe in ghosts. There’s a lot of shit Dan doesn’t believe in when it comes to the supernatural. Okay, he doesn’t believe in anything supernatural, so anyone who knows this could be perplexed when looking at his life. Just because he stars in one of the most popular ghost hunting shows that’s ever aired on TV doesn’t mean he actually has to believe in what he does.Or Dan doesn't believe in ghosts and gets an unwanted visitor named Phil.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Phandom Writers Discord 2020 Fall Exchange





	Convince Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowchristy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowchristy/gifts).



> Hello! I hope you like the first part of this fic! This wasn't meant to be a two part-er but I ran out of time and I wanted to make this fic good. I can't say when the next part will be up but I can promise it will be within the next month <3 Also. this might turn out to be 3 chapters, it depends on how into this I get lmao. Also also, the tags may very well be added to, I will let you know in the authors notes if they do :)

Dan doesn’t believe in ghosts. There’s a lot of shit Dan doesn’t believe in when it comes to the supernatural. Okay, he doesn’t believe in anything supernatural, so anyone who knows this could be perplexed when looking at his life. Just because he stars in one of the most popular ghost hunting shows that’s ever aired on TV doesn’t mean he actually has to believe in what he does. It pays his bills and he gets to be on the telly, what else could he ask for? 

Currently, he’s sitting in one of the most “haunted” places in the world. To be fair, the old penitentiary is pretty fucking creepy. The walls are deteriorating, chipped, and sends shivers down his spine as he slowly walks into another room where he’ll be staked out for a while. The cameras follow him as he sits down on a bench that he doesn’t trust to hold him as far as he could throw it. The creak that it lets out is scarier than the device in his hand that beeps. He knows the device is bullshit. How can a little handheld device that takes three AA batteries tell him that spirits are near? It doesn’t. It’s all for show. So that’s why he whispers to the camera and widens his eyes like he’s more scared of the supposed ghosts than the germs that are probably going to give him some weird disease. 

Dan sets up the recording machine and explains to the camera what he’s doing. It’s his third season, so by now the words flow easily. Suddenly, a noise comes from the hallway making him jump a bit. It’s definitely someone from the crew fucking with him, but he plays it up for the camera. Just another day in the office, really. 

Time passes quickly, and before he knows it, he’s sitting in the van along with PJ and Louise heading back to the office space in Philadelphia they’ve rented. 

“That place was the worst one yet,” Louise says from Dan’s right. He can see her full-body shiver. 

“Meh, wasn’t that bad.” Dan shrugs and PJ lets out a laugh. 

“Yeah, Dan, the lobotomy room wasn’t that bad,” PJ chuckles and tugs on a curl on the back of Dan’s head. 

“It’s all bullshit anyway.” 

“One of these days something will happen to make a believer out of you,” Louise says, her eyes serious despite the grin on her lips. 

He doubts that. He’s heard all of PJ and Louise’s stories, all of them having very logical explanations to debunk the ghost theory. Doors shutting by themselves? The wind. Children’s toys coming to life in the middle of the night? Probably a mouse or something. Weird voices? The brain likes to play tricks sometimes. Every paranormal experience has an explanation other than ghosts. 

When they make it to the cramped, plain office space, the tech crew sets up everything they need to take their recordings and amplify them. It’s all bullshit. Any small sound can sound like anything if you listen close enough. They listen and record, Dan makes up some phoney shit for the camera, saying this sound sounds like this word or that word and it must be the spirit of some person that died in the room they recorded it in. Bullshit. 

“What was that?” PJ’s face scrunches as he replays a ten-second clip from when Dan was sitting on the bench that will give Dan nightmares. 

They listen to the inflection of the sound. Dan lets out a loud laugh. 

“I swear it sounds like it says, ‘I’m gay,’” Dan says through giggles. 

“We can’t keep that in,” their producer Jason says from the corner of the room. 

“Of course not,” Dan mumbles. “Someone think of something else then, ‘cause I fucking swear that’s what it sounds like.” 

They play the clip again and Dan tries not to laugh. 

Louise thinks of something, not controversial for them to actually put into the show. Dan forgets what it is because it’s not as funny as ‘I’m gay.’ If he believed in ghosts, Dan would probably have gotten along with this one. Too bad it’s bullshit. 

*~*

There’s nothing better than stuffing his face full of greasy pizza from the comfort of his own flat. God, he really does love his job. Nothing could compare to traveling the world and getting paid to see all the places he’s always wanted to see, but sometimes he just wants to be home in London, stuffing Dominoes into his food-hole while an anime plays on the telly. 

His phone vibrates on his pajama-clad thigh. He glances down and scoops it up, opening the text from PJ. As he presses send, the lights flicker. Stupid old building. After another slice, his phone goes off again. When he presses send again, the lights go off completely for five seconds. The TV restarts and Dan groans. 

By the time he finishes his pizza, the electric goes on and off five times. 

He opens his chat with Louise, who is just a floor up from him. 

**Dan**

**Wtf is up with the electricity tonight?**

**Louise**

**What do you mean? I haven’t had a problem.**

**Dan**

**??**

**My electricity has gone off like 6 times in the last hour??**

That’s weird. Maybe he should call the landlord in the morning. 

With a groan, Dan stretches as he stands to collect the empty containers. He doesn’t really want to do dishes but he knows he’ll hate himself in the morning when he doesn’t have a clean bowl for his cereal or a mug for his coffee. So he rolls up his sleeves and starts filling the sink with water. 

When the dishes are clean, he starts drying his hands when a sound makes him jump. He looks down to see the box of Crunchy Nut laying on the floor. Stupid mice are probably back. He places it back on top of his fridge and starts turning off the lights and TV in the lounge. A sound comes from the kitchen. 

He flicks the light on and sees the box of cereal on the floor again, but this time it’s open, Crunchy Nut spilling out the top. 

“What the actual fuck,” Dan mumbles to himself as he picks it up. 

When he’s cleaned up his mess and is done bitching about how he’s going to have to make an extra trip to the store just to get more cereal, he heads to bed. Curling under his duvet when he’s been in random hotel rooms for weeks, laying under unfamiliar sheets is actually orgasmic. Home is nice. Home is safe. 

Heavy eyelids start threatening him. He goes easily knowing there’s no alarm set and he has no plans for the next day. It will be perfect. Half-dreams dance behind his eyelids and his body is becoming weightless. The sound of a door slamming rocks his body up. Jesus Christ, that sounded like his own bedroom door! He turns on the lamp on his bedside table and looks over, even though he always closes his bedroom door. 

It’s hanging wide open. Well, that doesn’t make any fucking sense. 

He debates just laying back down, but he knows he won't sleep unless he knows the door is shut. So he gets up and shuts the door. He’s more tired than he thought he was. 

Irritation tickles his skin. He lays down and goes to turn off his lamp. The light flickers off before he can turn the switch. He turns the switch anyway and falls down into the bed. Sleep. He needs sleep. 

But now when he closes his eyes, all he can focus on is the weird wind whipping outside and the creaks of the old building. Nothing is making sense. Dan doesn’t get scared of the wind at night. Even if it’s loud. Dan doesn’t worry when he hears a click that could possibly be his door, but probably isn’t. Is it? He looks over. The door is slowly opening. Tears prickle behind Dan’s eyes. This is bullshit. The window must be letting a breeze in. He must have not closed the door properly. 

Despite the constant sounds of the door opening and closing, Dan drifts off to sleep. 

*~*

Exhausted is an understatement for how Dan feels the next day. Nightmares terrorized Dan through the night and well into the morning. It isn’t even nine in the morning yet he pulls himself off the bed knowing he isn’t going to fall back to sleep anytime soon. Stupid lights. Stupid door. Stupid stupid wind. He blames the storm that passed through London last night. If he could, he would punch the storm for doing this to him. 

  
  


When he walks into the kitchen, a chill passes over Dan's whole body when he realizes what's off. Every single cabinet door is open. He tries to think of any possible excuse for this. He can't. But there  _ has _ to be some logical explanation. He can’t deal with this right now. A nice cold shower should snap him out of whatever is happening. 

  
  


The next twelve hours are probably the worst twelve hours Dan’s ever lived through. For starters, his cold shower doesn't last long as for some inexplicable reason, the warm side of the tap just  _ won’t work.  _ When he steps out into the steamy bathroom and looks into the mirror, it looks someone had dragged their hands over the condensation, and Dan knows full well it wasn’t him. 

Maybe it was just what happened with the cabinets that morning, but all through the afternoon, Dan constantly feels like he’s being watched. Somehow his little slice of paradise that is his flat has been turned into a creepy penitentiary or that weird barn in the middle of Scotland they filmed in last month. A storm starts brewing outside just as Dan contemplates going out just to catch his breath and talk himself down from whatever paranormal cliff he’d climbed up this morning. Rain pours down from the heavens so hard Dan can barely hear his TV over it. Every time he turns the volume up a smidge, the rain just falls with more resolve. 

It’s all in his head, Dan tells himself. It’s just his job getting in his brain and making him hallucinate or something. Maybe the pizza he had last night had a different kind of mushrooms on them. Weirder things have happened, haven’t they?

But even as Dan lays down to sleep, the storm outside just gets stronger and like last night, Dan can hear his door slowly opening and closing over and over again until Dan is ready to just brave the storm and go get a motel room. Eventually, sleep comes to him, not good sleep, but sleep regardless. 

The next morning, for the life of him, Dan  _ swears  _ he can feel someone laying next to him. There’s an obvious dip in the bed, and when Dan runs a hand over it, the sheets are warm as if someone had been lying there all night. Dan’s gone insane. Like, actually, clinically insane. He pulls the duvet back and skirts out to the kitchen in nothing but his pants, only to find the cabinets open once again. In a panic, Dan turns to run back to his room to collect some things just to get the fuck out of his house for a bit, but he freezes in his tracks. 

The blood-curdling scream that rips up out of his chest is nothing he’s ever heard before. But then again, who wouldn’t scream bloody murder when there’s an actual figure standing behind them? 

“Sorry, mate. Finally figured out how to properly introduce myself. Sorry for the cabinets, old habits die hard, am I right?” 

The person, no the  _ actual fucking floating, see-though, greyscale ghost  _ of a guy, smiles at Dan.  _ Smiles.  _ Dan feels his knees go weak, and then he passes out. 

****

Okay, so there is a ghost living in his flat. No big deal. 

“So, how long have you been dead?” Dan asks, feeling slightly manic. This is definitely a dream. There’s no way he is sitting in his lounge, three feet from an actual ghost. Ghosts don’t even exist. 

“Not sure, really. Seems like an eternity,” says Phil, which is the name of this supposed ghost. His voice sounds like he’s talking from down a long hallway, all echoey and distant. 

“I’m actually going crazy, aren’t I?” Dan chokes out in a dry chuckle. “There’s no way you're actually real.” 

“I’m not really,” Phil says, laughing lightly. His hair is the only thing Dan can’t vaguely see through as it’s pitch black and pushed up out of his face. What looks like a white shirt covers his chest and at his hips looks like some jeans that run down thighs, but his legs slowly fade away into nothing. No feet. No calves. Dan is fucking losing it. “I mean, look at this,” Phil says and swipes a hand  _ through _ Dan’s arm, making all his hair stick up. 

“Don’t do that, Jesus Christ.” Dan yanks his hand from the back of the sofa and tucks it into his chest, cradling it with the other. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Well, you didn’t seem sorry when you were opening and closing my bedroom door all night, or when you were making my lights flicker." 

Phil’s smile falls and he actually looks sorry as he apologizes. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to see if I could communicate. You’re the first person I’ve seen in what feels like forever.” 

A moment passes before Dan says, “So, you don’t remember anything from your past life?”

Phil seems to ponder this for a minute before sighing. “Not really, no. I remember my name, obviously. I know I lived in London and worked with computers.”

“So what about your parents? Did you have any siblings? A wife?”

“I...I don’t remember.” 

Somehow Dan finds himself feeling sorry for the ghost. It is quite sad when he thinks about it. He can’t fathom not remembering his mum, Louise, or even his tiny little flat. Phil doesn’t have anything besides the nonexistent shirt on his phantom back. 

“Oh! I remember watching this show. I can’t remember the name but it was about ice skaters.” 

“Like, competitive ice skating?”

“No, it was a cartoon, I think.” 

“Maybe…” Dan jumps to find the remote and turns on the tv. 

When Yuri On Ice starts playing, Phil screeches. “This is it! It’s anime! I love anime!” 

If Dan were to tell his past self that he would spend the next week curled on his couch, catching a ghost up to date on the newest animes of the past five or so years, he would have thought he was going crazy. But he actually is so he will agree with his past self.

Then, it’s a perfectly good Wednesday night when Louise comes into his flat unannounced. 

“Dan, are you ready to go?”

“Shit,” Dan mumbles, wiping crisp crumbs from his chest. 

“Who’s that?” Phil asks from his place on the other side of the sofa. 

Before Dan can replay, Louise is stalking into the lounge, hands on her hips. 

“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” Louise chides. 

Dan looks between Phil and Louise, who apparently hasn’t noticed the actual ghost sprawled out on the cushions like he owns the place. 

“Uh,” Dan says eloquently. 

“Come on, we have a show to get to. Ed Sheeran tickets? Remember?” 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I blanked?” 

“Thought you were ghosting me there for a bit,” Louise laughs and pulls Dan up from his sofa crease, still unaware of Phil. 

“Should I uh, introduce myself?” Phil asks, his form floating upright. 

“What’re you looking at?” Louise follows Dan’s gaze but otherwise doesn’t mention Phil. 

“You can’t- you don’t-” Dan stutters, pointing over at Phil. 

“What? You’ve had that signed poster for years, you nutter.” 

The Muse poster is slightly visible through Phil’s ghostly body. 

“She can’t see me,” Phil says, floating right through Louise.

“You alright?” she asks as she shudders. “It’s drafty in here. Have you caught a cold?” She places a hand over Dan’s crinkled forehead. 

“Yeah, fine. Just um...I’ll go get ready so we aren’t late.” 

As Louise turns her back, Dan makes a quick, jerky motion with his head at Phil signaling him to follow. 

“What the fuck is my life?” Dan whisper-shouts at Phil once they are safely in his room. 

“She can’t see me,” Phil says.

“Really?” Dan drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Okay, you don’t need to be rude. What do we do?”

“I guess…” Dan contemplates his options. 

On one hand, he could try to explain the situation to Louise. Louise: the person who has listened to Dan go on and on for years about how much bullshit the supernatural is. 

On the other hand...This could be Dan’s little secret. 

On a third, the sanest hand, Dan could check himself into a psychiatric facility and figure out what’s happening. 

“I guess,” Dan tries again, “you can wait for me to get back and we can finish the next season of Food Wars?” 

What the actual fuck is his life anymore.


End file.
